Legend
by Lone.L
Summary: A series of generalized shorts based around the series as a whole, usually after the end. [NEW! XIX: As If]
1. I: Long Ago

I wondered how long it would take me. Finally fell victim to the drabble bug. Honestly, I would've written a longer oneshot, but my mind is drained. This was inspired after watching the "Kids" OVA. If someone could review and recommend a setting, I could extend it to said oneshot (possibly).

* * *

**Long Ago**

* * *

Stories from an old, kind man. That's all they were. 

As they laughed and played innocently each time, chiding each other over whether he was their grandfather, great-grandfather, or possibly something even farther that was beyond comprehension to their innocent minds, all he could do was grin; grin after being reminded of how old he really was. And they would smile after he relayed another to them, pointing and giggling.

But they weren't just stories.

They were real. They were cherished tales from a life he was long-removed from.

A life he would live a hundred more times if possible.


	2. II: Times Change

I could really get used to this, at least until my true creative spark returns. It's so easy to find inspiration around you when you only have to write one hundred words! Without uselessly embellishing further, here's the second one.

* * *

**Times Change**

* * *

Neither has even batted an eye. 

So the contest drags on once more. The staredown is eternal, it seems, for neither has been able to get anywhere near victory. The oddity of the situation is expounded when one considers the competitors: he, the champion…

The challenger—the present.

Both sides continue to wage war, but it is fruitless still. He refuses to yield; the world around him won't sway.

He knows, though, that this is a battle he cannot win. The world will continue to change, unfortunately, with or without his approval.

It is yet another reminder that times change.


	3. III: A Trade

* * *

**A Trade**

* * *

Even in a place like this, Equivalent Exchange still exists. He's sure of it. 

Though this world is no longer foreign, having been his home for 82 years, he still hardly feels connected to it. He wakes up here. lives his life here, exists here…but his mind wanders elsewhere. With each event he bears witness to, his thoughts immediately filter back to Equivalency, eliciting a grin. Even now, he's still convinced that it's real.

That same smile spreads when he considers the life he's lived. In exchange for confinement to an unfamiliar world, he's gained something special.

Incomparable wisdom.


	4. IV: New Outlook

* * *

**New Outlook**

* * *

Now, everything is bearable. 

The hardest of it all, he knows, was the loneliness. He is no stranger to pain, or to unfamiliarity. Being trapped in a new, unknown world is nothing compared to being trapped in it alone. There is a direct transition between feeling lost in a new place, without anyone by his side, and growing to dislike the place altogether.

No matter how far he travels, he still can't escape from this place.

But now, a gypsy, wondrously beautiful and kind at heart, is his companion. He can share his feelings with her easily—because he does not need to find words.

Now, his dear brother is with him.

Now, everything is bearable.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, I admit it. This one was over 100 words. Bleh. It's actually 116, and I just liked how it sounded too much to change it. I hope you'll all forgive me. This one isn't post-Kids, just post-CoS. So Ed's still 18 or 19. I figured it was good to mix some in, eh? Also, can anyone tell me why everyone that can is steering far clear of this collection? I have 108 hits and 2 reviews, and only six of those hits are for two and only five are for three. What's the deal? Does it smell? I guess I can't change anyone's mind, though. 

Five will probably be EdxNoah, sorry to say for anyone who isn't a fan of the couple. But you never know.

Readers, you can feel free to give me ideas for other ones, because I'm always thinking about it.

**LL**


	5. V: Whirls

* * *

**Whirls**

* * *

The speed of the clapping increases suddenly, in perfect harmony with the drums and guitar, and as the pace speeds up, so does the dance. A swirl of white flutters in the wind, in the midst of a spin; the beat gets louder, faster. 

In a single motion, flawlessly executed and angelically performed, she whirls across the stage created by the lone spectator, hair flying. Her feet slap the ground in unison, matching the beats of the music. She bounces to each rise, dips to each fall.

Thundering, dashing, the music quickens and booms, until it reaches a crescendo, then comes to an abrupt end.

He watches from the side, golden eyes fixated on her flowing russet hair, her luscious lips, her perfect form. As she strides over to his seat, he claps viciously, smiling softly. The gypsy woman sits beside him.

When asked if he liked the dance, he replies that there's only one thing in this world he enjoys more.

She inquires, with a smirk, into what that would be. He raises an eyebrow.

She leans into him, blonde meshing with brown fluidly, and due in large part to a hushed smack, the answer goes unheard.

* * *

**A/N: **I've done it again. This one is actually 200 words. I've realized that I can't put a one hundred-word limit on my creativity, so most of these won't be exact drabbles by definition, just short stories. It won't make much of a difference, though. As most will realize, this takes some elements from both **Requiem** and **At Night**, my two EdxNoah oneshots that are my pride and joy and combines them into a slightly new setting. I like it, actually. 

• I'm used to getting few reviews in comparison to a lot of hits, but four reviews to 320+ hits? That's bull. You have to be some kind of lazy to not be able to type even two or three words like "it's good1!11!one!" or "it was kool!" I mean, _**come on**_.

• Now that I have that out...I am accepting suggestions for what the subject of #6 should be, because I can't write a good one right now. If you're all that afraid of reviewing for some ghastly reason, at least PM or e-mail ideas to me...please?

**LL**


	6. VI: One Parallel Conundrum

* * *

**One Parallel Conundrum**

* * *

It makes for quite an interesting fact, deserving of a note at the front of his mind when he wakes each morning. Of all of the things he has found to be so fascinating in this new world, it can be second to none, and the possibilities it opens are as bountiful and endless as his hope that they can be realized. 

Parallels.

Parallels between worlds.

His sincere brother, Alphonse; his dearly departed friend, Alfons.

Evil, cunning Führer Bradley; enigmatic and humorous Fritz Lang.

Strong, faithful Rose; deep, beautiful Noah.

It seems, though, that no matter who he meets, the most important one to him will always be missing. That, at least, is what he has assumed until now. Until now, he has been searching—trying, but never believing. His lack of conviction kept it from ever surfacing as his top priority, but in everything he has done, he has been searching on the side.

Not anymore.

He has finally found her. Her face is candy to his eyes, almost as much as her name is music to his ears.

Her name is Wenry Gottlieb.

* * *

**A/N: **Couldn't help myself. I changed the i to an e in Winry because it just seemed...more German, or European, or this-world-ish to me. In addition, and (yes) I did this on purpose, Gottlieb is a German surname that means "God's love." I'm sure any respectable EdWin fan can figure that one out. Anyway, I did get a good suggestion that I might use for #7, but it'll be hard to work out...so I encourage more ideas. Review, because it always helps. Yeah, I do feel like an idiot after saying that, because nobody gives a crap enough to even _look _at the review button, but it was worth a shot.

453 hits. Five reviews.

**LL**


	7. VII: Alright

* * *

**Alright**

* * *

In the morning light, slightly dulled and distorted by translucent curtains, the tear gleams softly as it slides down his cheek. The pain is eating away at him, ripping apart his insides, with little hope for repair. Thoughts of her are killing him. 

_I'm sorry..._

With a sad smile that seems to drip with irony, he slowly raises his hand and holds it out above him, staring at the light streaming off of the metal.

He rolls over in the bed, hair splaying behind him, and looks silently at the picture gazing back from the nightstand.

In a fit of regretful rage, he swings at the frame, slicing it off of the tabletop and sending it tumbling to the floor.

_It doesn't matter now!_

The shattering of glass triggers thumping footsteps. Suddenly, another is there in the doorway, gazing into the room with concern. There is silence for moments that seem to drag into eternity. Fierce golden eyes lock with kind almond ones; the younger spots the frame and destroyed glass on the floor and exhales with a mixture of relief and remorse. He smiles reassuringly. After a while, the elder does as well.

"Are you alright?"

_Thanks for coming..._

"..."

"You'll be okay, right?"

_At least you're here..._

"...Yeah."

* * *

**A/N: **This one was kind of random, just springing out of my mind suddenly. I kind of like it, though. This set of short stories originated as Kids-based, and now it seems like all I can do is CoS. I'm sure the readers aren't complaining, though. I have 10 reviews now, so I'd like to thank the few of you who did humor me. All who know about my writing and tastes realize I hate shonen-ai, but that I do admire and embellish upon the mutual respect and love that these two have for each other. This isn't a romantic story in the least...except for the angst Ed has for a certain unnamed girl, I guess. I would have liked to describe the room more, but this is a short story. Please, readers, review, because it helps me continue this set of stories. 

**LL**


	8. VIII: One's Own Happiness

Small advisory: this short contains very, very, very _slight _implications of 15+ stuff. Admittedly, though, it's pretty vague, and if a reader can't handle mentions this small, they really shouldn't be on this site anyway.

* * *

**One's Own Happiness**

* * *

The way he sees it, time has simply taken its course, and what has come is nothing more than what was due. In truth, what better way for it to turn out? He cannot hide the faint smile gradually seeping across his face as he gazes at her. From his position on the couch, it is not hard to feign sleep; he can't help but be amazed, for he is usually not this crafty. 

This is different, however.

This, he had to see for himself.

As she stumbles to the doorway, russet hair messed, a blanket around her bare shoulders, a flustered blush spreading across her tan skin, he chuckles inwardly, feeling the gaze of her soft eyes on him. Remaining as perfectly still as possible, he cracks an eye open to examine her. Her chest is rising and falling quickly in rhythm with her heavy breathing. A small smile shapes her lips; her dark eyes have a special shine to them; she is turning, glancing back into the room, her grin widening.

Convinced that he is blissfully asleep on the tiny couch, she silently turns the corner and returns to her room, dragging her newfound happiness and a blanket with her.

Silence elapses for several minutes.

He can see his brother's shadow, cast across the wall of his room. The silhouette drags its long pants back up and snaps the button, then similarly tosses a long-sleeved shirt over its chest.

He mistakenly drags himself into a sitting position just in time to catch his brother emerging from the room, blonde ponytail swinging. The nonchalant, inconspicuous look the elder bears deteriorates rapidly upon realization. They stare at each other for a moment, exchanging no words.

The elder nods apologetically.

With a smile, the younger waves it off, rolling over on the couch. There are no assumptions to be made.

He understands.

Before, neither had a home. Now, they have found one in each other's arms, and happiness in each other's hearts. In truth, what better way for it to turn out?

He understands.

What has come is nothing more than what was due, and has been for a very long time.

* * *

**A/N: **What can I say about this one? Well, I'm not hoping for a public outcry, that's for sure. This is just something I've been looking for a way to express for a while, ever since the movie, and a short gives me the opportunity to do that. As with many of my stories where I just weave language and don't define anything, pretty much everything in this is up to interpretation from anyone but me. Just try to review, please. I know you don't care enough to even consider it, and that I'm wasting my time asking, but...oh well. Who cares. You all don't.

789 hits. Fifteen reviews.

**LL**


	9. IX: Postscript

Don't know why, but I'm still doing this...

* * *

**Postscript**

* * *

"Edward." 

With a jolt, he shakes out of his daze. An awkward smile crosses his face as he nods politely to the innkeeper. She watches him go with a dissatisfied and concerned look.

It has been so long since someone has called him that.

His boots echo as his feet slap the pavement; his head echoes as thoughts flood his mind.

"Who do I remind you of? Is it your mother? Or perhaps…a girlfriend?"

_No._

The sun is setting against the backdrop of the city.

_Not exactly._

She looks up from her duties momentarily, long enough to glimpse his silhouette striding further and further away. From his eternally predictable actions, it isn't hard to deduce that he's no longer used to being called by his full name.

_It's not like it matters anymore._

The last person to call him "Edward." Long gone, but never forgotten.

_"No, Edward. I won't forget about that."_

* * *

**A/N: **Well, when I get on this track, I just can't help myself (I know I always say that). This one comes per-request (or idea) from **Kanashii.Umi**. I always have to clarify some things with readers, so I'll get them out of the way before anyone asks. 

(Just kidding, I'm not stupid enough to think anyone would actually review to ask)

Wanted to get descriptive, but I needed to keep this short. Sorry. The "he" is Ed, obviously. The "she" is Gracia. The city is Munich. The _thoughts_ are Ed's. The last quote is from Lust. So, the secret's out. Yes, it's a post-Cos EdLust. Sorry. As for the title...well, they're Ed's musings on Lust after he ends up here, kind of like a mental PS. And we all know PS stands for postscript. I might do another ExL later with just his real thoughts, but not for now.

If enough review, the next one might be an EdWin. I'm considering not doing romance at all for the next one or next few ones, but I'm not sure. Even though you won't review, I feel I'm doing my part by asking. So please, do me a favor and leave even a small review (especially for #8, it's my favorite).

**LL**


	10. X: Rerun

Rollin' out the promised EdWin...although (admittedly), like most of these shorts, it's pretty onesided and sort of angsty.

* * *

**Rerun**

* * *

Those last glimpses of her. They are the driving force behind his will to live—what's left of it. 

Each time he feels a golden strand adorning his head whip in the wind, he is reminded of her flowing blonde hair, tossing itself amongst the breezes as she gazed faithfully, albeit sadly, up at the sky, watching him fall out of her life forever.

There isn't much hope left.

He's aware of that.

In the end, though, it doesn't really matter.

His life is the story of one day endlessly repeating itself, a cycle of waking, departing and returning home without a concrete purpose that matches in all aspects the infinite quality of the Ouroboros. His body has become an empty shell, but inside his mind still functions on the small fragments of memory he retains from his days by her side.

Without her, he is lost.

Without her flowery fragrance drifting about him, scents have lost all meaning. Without that wonderful blonde hair, he is forced to avoid noticing his own in fear that it will call hers to mind and shatter his aloof demeanor, rupturing his uneasy peace. Without the sparkling azure eyes that always gazed into his own with love and concern, he cannot bring his own to look higher than the ground.

So the cycle repeats.

"Al, I'm back!"

"Good, Noah was wondering where you went. She's in her room."

A nervous glance to the side.

"Oh."

The door shuts, and he is gone again.

So the cycle repeats.

Someday, he will be able to move on and live his life to the fullest, no longer hampered by her lost love, but always carrying her in her heart. Someday, he will find the strength to use what he learned from her to carry on.

But not yet.

* * *

**A/N: **This turned out a lot more depressing than I planned, and longer too, but I guess that's how it happens sometimes. I promise everyone that soon I'll write one of these where they reunite, and soon I'll be writing a lot of these that aren't as depressing. But, as the story says, not yet. I don't believe I left anything in here that I or a reader will have to interpret, so that's good. The "she" is obviously Winry. I'll be sprinkling in EdWin all over this series, but I really want to do EdxNoah. Actually, the only thing convincing me to do EdWin is Nymphetamine. I'm still looking to do some without romance, a la the first four shorts, in order to avoid such troubles. My mind hopes a solution is coming. Read and review. I'm trying to get one of these out each day, if not more, so I need everyone's support 

**THIS IS** a very important note to my HWH (**To Heal the Wounds of the Heart**) readers, which should be almost everyone who reviews this. I want to apologize to you all for my delay in updating Chapter 12 of the story, but it might be possible to have it done by mid-weekend. If not, I just want to assure you all that it is coming. If you haven't reviewed Chapter 11, please do so, because I really appreciate it. I didn't forget about it or any of you, so rest assured.

1,167 hits. Thirty-two reviews. Still sucks, but better (I guess...I think...).

**LL**


	11. XI: Peace

I feel considerably better today than I did yesterday, so here's a positive one—no angst, for now.

* * *

**Peace**

* * *

The sun beams down from above; the soft, blue sky is lit perfectly, with no clouds in sight; a strong breeze whips the air, corralling the heat and causing a pleased sigh to emit from below. 

Munich, for all of its designations, locales and landmarks, is a city. Germany, though full of interesting places and people, is little more than a county. Europe itself is only a single continent. These are the views of most normal people as they inhabit whichever place they call home, never giving a passing glance to the smaller, but no less important, things in life.

Munich, though, is not just a city, and Germany not just a county, and Europe not just a continent.

Not to him.

Things have changed. Where it once was an unforgiving prison, a boundless expanse seemingly designed for the sole purpose of holding him in, this world has now become a wondrous place full of unexplored opportunities.

Life will never change, but he has come to realize that one's reality is what one makes of it. Reality, in fact, is little more than perception; how he perceives his world to be, it will become.

That fact encourages him to persevere ever onward, content with surviving the harsh tragedies of his short life.

In many ways, it has enabled Edward to make peace with the world, and later, with himself.

People casually stride past him left and right, engaged in their own conversations. He takes in the stir and commotion on all sides, relishing it, understanding its place in the world—as he does with almost everything, these days. He has even come to comprehend that maturity is never a single point, or moment, or a physical aspect, but rather that it comes with finding the understanding he has so firmly grasped.

He will never be able to replace the friends—and loved ones—that he lost, but he can find the strength to move on.

His thoughts drift back to Alphonse, and his heart softens. He thinks of Noah, and a satisfied smile escapes his lips.

The possibilities are truly endless.

With a quick eye and a quicker hand, he reaches forward and grabs several plump apples from the fruit stand he is perched in front of. The woman tending the wooden market, a short, wisened sage basking in the shade offered by the overhang, says nothing. She elects, instead, to watch this young man with fascination. He radiates the aura of a content, mature individual, and she knows better than to interrupt his musings.

Finishing his selection with a large melon, he hands several Marks to the lady and turns, departing with a polite thank you.

The bag is heavy, and his legs are tired. It is getting hotter, and he is wearing long sleeves. The apartment is still relatively far away. He does not even know if Al will be home when he returns.

All he can do is gaze up at the sky and grin.

* * *

**A/N: **Hooray for optimism? I really liked the feel of this one. It still has relatively no situational action, something I'll have to correct, but I did manage to avoid romance (besides that small EdxNoah slip-in towards the end) and angst. This made Ed seem really happy, something I've been meaning to do with his newfound maturity in the movie. I promise that sometime soon I'll move past character development and implant some situations in some of these shorts. As a small note, when the movie ended, the inflation was in full force, and the Mark (_papiermark, _to be exact) had almost no value. In late 1923, the German government began printing _rentenmarks_, which almost immediately stopped the inflation. The rentenmarks were only temporary (in fact, they were in circulation for only one year), and a new Mark followed soon afterward, but I set this short right after the movie, which is about the time that the rentenmarks would be coming out. 

All of 1,501 hits. Just thirty-eight reviews.

**LL**


	12. XII: Metastases, Part 1

Took me a while to find more inspiration for another short, but I got there eventually

* * *

**Metastases (Part 1)  
**

* * *

He sits alone by the side of the water, gazing at the perfect ripples spreading out towards the banks as nature drifts by tranquilly. The light reflected off of the ceaseless pond splays across his face, cautiously illuminating his golden eyes—which, while usually fierce, sharpy and alert, are half-closed, slightly diluted and dulled. 

In the midst of this peace, a gentle breeze wisps past disarmingly. His blonde hair is tossed up in the wind, and he smiles.

On days like this, he enjoys solitude. He yearns for it. When alone, he is allowed the chance to reconcile with his thoughts, explore his feelings, to grant himself the opportunity to make peace with his regrets and find the deeper meaning in his severely altered existence.

The breeze intensifies before dying out quietly. Displaced leaves begin to slowly drift towards the ground. His smile widens as he turns to the side, staring off into the distance. The city is there, situated in the background.

It is almost time to return home.

He shifts into a more relaxed position and returns his eyes to the pond.

Not time yet.

The more time he is able to spend by himself, the more his happiness grows and expands, eventually harnessing the joint-relations hip to spread uncontained to other areas of his life. It becomes unrestrained. Unbound. Endless.

So it is okay to stay a little while longer, if only for a moment.

He sits alone by the side of the water. gazing at the perfect ripples and reflecting silently on how great it truly is to be alive.

* * *

**A/N: **Short. I know. My apologies. Not many notes...only one, really. I know that the word metastases is usually used in a purely medical sense, to describe a cancer that has evolved beyond malignancy and can spread to other parts of the body, but the title seemed to fit. The happiness he now bears is like a metastatic cancer in that regard, except that it is the opposite of harmful. There will be three parts to this one. 

Please give me your opinion of this short, because it has become one of my instant favorites, and I need feedback to keep the other two parts enjoyable.

1,793 hits. Fourty-five reviews.

**LL**


	13. XIII: Metastases, Part 2

There will be three parts, I've decided. Stay tuned.

* * *

**Metastases (Part 2)**

* * *

He sits alone by the side of the water, gazing at the perfect ripples spreading out towards the banks as nature drifts by tranquilly. The light reflected off of the ceaseless pond splays across his face, cautiously illuminating his golden eyes—which, while usually fierce, sharp and alert, are half-closed, slightly diluted and dulled. 

In the midst of this peace, a gentle breeze wisps past disarmingly. His blonde hair is tossed up in the wind, and he smiles.

His mind is in a thick fog, stumbling, undeniably lost among thoughts. When he arrived here for good, he was certain that he had chosen to live a life of solitude and yearning, but he is not so sure that that is the case anymore. He lets the world drift by for a few more moments, mired in silent contemplation.

"It doesn't matter who you are...if you work hard, it pays off," he quietly whispers into the afternoon light.

_Yeah..._

There is no surer proof of that than her. Amidst the quiet chaos and cold inferno that surround him, she serves as a bright hole in the shroud of grief that used to hang over him. Hard work was the price, and he payed it without hesitation, without thought. Sitting peacefully under the shifting tree, lounging beside the water, he can still remember perfectly when they met. It was, of all places, at the university.

He grins when he thinks back to the moment that, while completely lost in his thoughts, he careened to the side and knocked into her, proceeding to apologize profusely, then nearly leaving his feet when he glimpsed her face.

Every emotion he felt then—shock, confusion, worry, hope, distress—is being recounted in his mind as he continues to stare at the water.

They are all gone now, replaced by a single one that outreaches its predecessors by what must be thousands of miles, far enough to span across oceans.

He was completely prepared for everything that he knew would follow, and yet it somehow still managed to catch him off guard and significantly surprise him. What started out as a coincidental rendezvous with an identical copy of the face of his past swiftly evolved into something greater, something unbelievable and astounding.

As he casually leans back, partially decomposed leaves crunch softly in conjunction with approaching footsteps.

He sits alone by the side of the water, gazing back towards the path and watching a fresh person with an old face approach him.

* * *

**A/N: **This one was a little unlike me. A lot unlike me, actually. A lot of elements are in keeping with my style, but there just seemed to be a little too much...well, I can't identify it, but I do regretfully admit that the next one will be sappy. I could be imagining it, though. I have a few things to say. Firstly, as stated above, the **Metastases **mini-short/series will be a trilogy, so I've got one more coming. Second, when I do finally get past that, the next short in **Legend **will be 100 Al-centric. Cue cheers. Third, I can't apologize and beg for all of your forgiveness enough for my lack of updates lately. I just want you all to know I am resuming consistent work on **Legend** and constant development of **Four Seasons** (tentative title, check my profile). I want to stress that **To Heal the Wounds of the Heart **chapter 12 WILL be out this weekend, or by this weekend, no exceptions. And you all better hold me to my word. I know how many people love that story, and I feel as though I'm letting everyone down by working so slowly on the next installment. It's coming. Promise. 

That's all. Thanks for putting up with me (hah) and review.

**LL**


	14. XIV: Metastases, Part 3

Metastases (Part 3)

He sits alone by the side of the water, gazing at the perfect ripples spreading out towards the banks as nature drifts by tranquilly. The light reflected off of the ceaseless pond splays across his face, cautiously illuminating his golden eyes—which, while usually fierce, sharp and alert, are half-closed, slightly diluted and dulled.

In the midst of this peace, a gentle breeze wisps past disarmingly. His blonde hair is tossed up in the wind, and he smiles.

As he casually leans back, partially decomposed leaves crunch softly in conjunction with approaching footsteps.

He doesn't have to turn his head to know who the visitor is, doesn't have to speak to make their presence welcome. The noises drift ever closer until a shadow is cast across him, and he finally looks up.

"Ed..."

He flashes her a gentle smile, a sincere expression not even remotely near that of his aloof grin or sarcastic smirk.

After a quiet moment, she sits down.

The tree stands firm as he leans back against it, hearing the rustling of branches that always accompanies an approaching breeze. The wind swirls by, and he feels hair brushing his face. Immediately he knows that it is not his, but softer, longer, lighter strands of the purest blonde. Without a word, she rests her head against him, content to watch the water as he is.

Their time together is spent in this manner more so than it is in a social environment. Words are nothing but forms of communication; what need is there for them when they speak to each other in so many other ways?

He looks down, gazing upon her face, ignoring the first shiver that always comes when he does so.

An inward chuckle and a resurfacing fact he is not afraid to admit.

He's fallen in love.

Again.

That, however, is not why the shiver comes. The momentary jolt is the result of a cruel twist of fate, a curse and a blessing, a double-edged dagger that has fallen upon him. He is transfixed each time he sees her because he has fallen in love again...

...with the same person.

Or so it would seem, but he knows in his heart that they are two different people. Though he loved the previous first, dearly, and most likely always will, he left her behind by his own will, and there is nothing to be done to change that. Some part of him will always be skeptical, and will always chide himself over the ill-perceived fact that he just loves her now because he loved the other her then. But they are not one and the same, and the one leaned against him now is the one he has chosen. He found her.

She is just as beautiful as her other incarnation, just as sweet and caring, and possibly even more intelligent. So he sits with her, meeting her sparkling blue eyes, watching the water silently.

He has told her little of the other side of his life, the one that came before; even so, she can sense his mixed feelings, and graciously presses herself closer to him.

They sit together by the side of the water, gazing at the perfect ripples spreading out towards the banks and wanting nothing more than to remain where they are.

And when the moment finally does come when it is time to go, they will leave hand in hand.


	15. XV: Background, Foreground I

As promised. Read, _review_, enjoy.

* * *

**Background, Foreground _/piece I/_  
**

* * *

Life, if so precious a thing as to have limitless value, is seen and expressed by each individual in a truly unique way. Those who live as though they will not live tomorrow, boundaries nonexistant, questions and concerns irregardless, enjoy the true euphoria that accompanies being alive—provided they manage to avoid the one big mistake that keys a horrific downfall. Individuals who cower in corners, living in fear of making that mistake, move quietly through life without a single worry of involving themselves in trouble, although it is at the expense of enjoying the company of friends and loved ones and understanding what it truly means to live. 

With such individuals in place, what is there for the ones who lie between the lines, who understand and love their life but are cautious enough to stand back and stand down when such actions are needed?

They are the ones whose wisdom provides for others, whose support allows both extremes of the spectrum, whose kindness should be a model for all others.

And yet, they are so often relegated to the background.

In this world, there walks one who lives fearlessly and abides by his own intelligence, rather than hiding with ignorance. He stands in the shadow of one whose legacy and personality far outreach his, and though he himself stands in the background in that regard, the one he follows would be nothing without him.

That is why he chose to follow the man whose back he always watches into an unknown, uncharted, fear-inspiring place he had never seen.

He knows, just as he knew then, that this man needs him to be by his side.

He may stand in the background behind his brother's life, but in their bond Alphonse Elric will always be in the foreground, the one who facilitates the love and keeps things as they should be, a wide smile always behind his hazel eyes.

* * *

**A/N: **Hopefully I'm not getting addicted to this splitting stories into parts thing, but let's face it...some of these shorts are getting so long that they could be their own oneshots. I don't want that to happen, so yes, I'm splitting this one into two. I intended to have a small section describing Al, and then some situational storytelling with him in Munich, but that second part will end up being Short #16. You all won't have to wait too long for it, though, so no worries there. Let me know what you think, because I actually found it fun to focus on Al. 

HWH Update: About 2300 words in to Chapter 12, and it'll be 4000 tops. I promise you all, I'm getting closer. Thanks for reading it and this collection, and I implore you to review them both. I really do appreciate it a lot.

**LL**


	16. XVI: Background, Foreground II

The dreaded situational action...at least for this author.

* * *

**Background, Foreground /_piece II/_**

* * *

"Don't forget, Al! Noah's visiting for dinner tonight!" 

The yell reaches his ears as the door swings open with a loud creak. He pauses for a moment, flashes a list of foods, and then, with a smile, waves over his shoulder and disappears into the afternoon, closing the door behind him.

Edward watches the door fondly for a moment, his eyes frozen on the worn wood separating him from the outside world. After several quiet moments elapse, he grins and turns back to his musings, not the slightest worry on his mind. Alphonse said he would be back; the one constant with his brother, the epitome of a kindhearted and trustworthy soul, is his word, a precious gift that is never broken nor has a single string attached.

His blonde ponytail flips as he turns to sit, hoping for the opportunity to rest after a long day. In the quiet of the otherwise empty apartment, he whispers aloud.

"Sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you, Al."

—- - - - - -—

Snow is drifting down as he makes his way through the streets of Munich, hands buried deep in his pockets and a calm look on his face to match his easy gait. This has become his favorite time of year by far. On this side of the Gate, he has found, the people celebrate a wonderful holiday called "Christmas" that encourages goodwill, giving, compassion. According to local calendars, the day is only two weeks away. As he passes various houses and apartments on his way to the market, he glimpses beautifully decorated trees and fascinating light fixtures that inspire a warm feeling in his heart.

Before he makes the turn, a young girl catches his eye. She is staring through the window of her home, face and hands pressed against the glass, watching him.

Alphonse pauses for a second.

Then he smiles heartwarmingly, and the girl turns from the window, exclaiming and pointing at him. He continues with a grin, turning the corner to the marketplace. A familiar scene is spread out before him. Locating the stand that sells the best meat, he proceeds towards it, nodding in a friendly manner to people he passes as he draws money from his pocket.

When he arrives, he points out the cut he wants and waits as the man tending the stand packages it for him. The man looks at him quizzically as he hands over the product.

"You look familiar," he states, "Do you come here often?"

Al nods politely. "Yes sir. I buy almost all of my meat here."

He pays up and turns to leave before the man calls out to him.

"I remember you now. My wife says that you're a great young man."

Before departing, Al smiles one last time and waves. "Tell her thank you. And have a Merry Christmas."

He checks the rest of his list and looks around, attempting to match food to stand, until everything is planned out.

And so Alphonse goes about his business, taking care of the small efforts that make this new lifestyle for him and his brother so easy. A soft grin creeps across his face as he pays for a basket of fruit. He knows that when he gets home, after dinner is served, the first thing his brother will say is "This is all thanks to Al. It'd be nothin' without him," and that he will agree with embarrassment, politely changing the subject.

For though his menial tasks are often brought into the foreground, he prefers to relinquish the spotlight, fading into the background that so often allows him to throughly enjoy life.

* * *

**A/N: **I know it's stupid and pointless and bull to try asking a single person to review but...I guess I've never been one to listen to common sense. Whatever. I might do #17 later or I might not. Right now I'm focused on my new Samurai Champloo fic, because people who read in that section actually enjoy reading it, and they care enough to review and let me know what they like and don't.

But I guess sometimes one can just ask for too much.

**LL**


	17. XVII: The Purpose

My collection of shorts nobody reviews is back! Trying to move in different directions; stick with me.

* * *

**The Purpose**

* * *

In the frigid extremes of Germany in winter, below the hastening descent of nightfall and the absolute darkness it brings, amidst the beautifully majestic snowflakes swirling about in the calm winter wind, they sit in each other's company with warm smiles adorning their faces and a dancing flame watching carefully over them. In the silence, the dim light, they are fulfilled, truly thankful to merely rest in meager chairs and gaze at the fireplace, or perhaps at the pair of candles placed in the center if this small portrait of joyous content as they sit together. The trio is silent with complete understanding; no words are needed, and therefore, none are spoken. 

In the temperate perfection of Amestris in the spring, below a wondrously blue sky and the carefree joy it encourages, amidst the cordially warming rays of the sun floating down from above, they sit in each other's company with warm smiles adorning their faces and soothing, whispering breezes watching carefully over them. In the silence, the bright light, they are fullfilled, enormously gracious to merely lie in peace against the soft cushion of grass and earth and turn their eyes to the sky. The quartet is silent with content; none wish to disrupt the tranquility, and therefore, quiet peace reigns.

In trying times, through cruel separations, even those with fragile minds and broken hearts have persevered.

Because there is no greater thing than life.

Problems that should weigh heavily on their minds have no importance, no merit.

Because they are _alive_. And no thing in either world may ever best that.

They shall endure. They shall fight on. They shall continue, even in the face of even greater hardships, if such a thing is possible. Because they have a reason that tears through all others as a shred of light amidst darkness, defeating and casting out demons with ease.

They are simply in love with life. For that reason, for them, there exists nothing but joy.

Somewhere in the void that connects their realms, one can only assume, biting cold and pleasant warmth meet in perfect harmony, merging and continuing on, following the path of life.

Because all things are placed in the world to live.

And there is no greater purpose than that.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, yeah...bursts of inspiration with happy overtones. Should make all readers happy, because lots of my fics are littered with angst. On some occasions, that's a good thing, but many have told me that I'm so devastatingly good at it, it justs causes tears. Anyway, this seems a little disjointed, but I wanted to do just a general ficlet with the message of enjoying life to the fullest that included most major characters. Also, I'm aware that because the worlds are parallel, they'd probably be in winter or spring at the same time, not at separate times, but I changed it for the purpose of the short. 

I might do something with Roy in it next, or later on. Sorry, all Royai-ers, but I'm trying to ditch romance. I'll come back to it at least once, though, in the future, for Royai.

To clarify, the three in Germany are Ed, Al and Noah, and the four in Amestris are Winry, Scieska, Rose and the baby (or Den...I don't really know).

People, PM, review or e-mail me with suggestions, please! I need some challenges if I'm going to have enough ideas to keep updating this thing. Hope you enjoyed. Please review.

**LL**


	18. XVIII: Apex

I feel like I just have to continue this because there's nothing better than having a small place to express yourself randomly. Read on.

* * *

**Apex**

* * *

An aged, worn, faded oaken door littered with intricate cuts and a dull mahogany color slowly swings open with a loud creak, twirling ungracefully atop its dated hinges, eventually coming to a stop facing the bright sun. The shadow it casts beautifully frames the stark contrast between light and dark, running a thick, straight line of dull black against the bright, blindingly light white of the illuminated pavement. At last, the unseemly creak ceases; from behind the long-standing door emerges a figure, standing upright with a raised chin and a regal air. A young man moves out onto the walkway, into the warm sunlight, his short, dirty-blonde hair lightening considerably. 

The joyous, contented chirps of birds nearby wing into the air in conjunction with, as if to signal, the boy's bright hazel eyes turning upward. In mid-afternoon, the trailings of conversations in each direction float throughout the streets and add to the noise of the environment, yet today, it is quiet. As the birds wing away, their flapping wings leave a shuffling sound behind, then finally leave him in silence.

A delicate breeze wisps across, soaring beneath clouds lying in the azure sky, to toss his bangs up, caressing his form with its light touch, bathing the entire walkway with a cool, refreshing wind; a soft, contented smile edges its way across his face.

Nothing in particular is occurring today, no pre-scheduled events fostering excitement and anticipation, no random escapades to liven things up. No trips to take, plans to make or conversations to be had. Munich is quiet; everything is at a standstill; the entire scene seems unimpressive, disinteresting.

Yet to one who can look within the finer points of life and understand its meaning, no situation could be better.

The absence of plans simply means less things to worry about, to conform to. The absence of any to talk to simply leaves the opportunity to relish being alive, to feel the sun linger on one's skin, to enjoy the breeze as it floats by.

To Alphonse, a day like this is the apex of life, yet, for something as pure and uninhibited as life itself, any moment within it could be similar—that is what makes life itself the apex of existence.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm back, and I mean it this time, hehe. I'll never update as frequently as I used to, but I am working on several things. I'm considering, as amazing as it might be, returning to HWH (**To Heal the Wounds of the Heart**) to finish the last chapter or two, just for closure for the fans and for myself; at the same time, I'm working on Track 3 for **Affluent Anarchy**, my Champloo fic, and very soon now I'll finish and throw up a bunch of Death Note stuff I've been writing, because DN is freaking amazing.

Review if you can, though if you don't that's alright. The point of most of these is to be enjoyable and convey a meaning, and as long as you grasped the meaning from this one, my job is done.

Holla at me if you get a chance, about anything. Thanks.

**LL**


	19. XIX: As If

How great it is to be inspired to write again!

* * *

**As If**

* * *

Such an amazing man Roy Mustang was, as if he didn't believe it himself. The perfect epitome of diligence, righteousness and trust was what he appeared to be to all, not just to her. Yet it was only to her that the delicate lines hidden below the surface stood out, and she understood. She appreciated the fact that the words "give up" were not a part of his vocabulary. She appreciated that he treated her just right, with the appropriate touches of caution, wisdom, needed toughness and gentle encouragement. She appreciated that he was a true hero in his own right, and she appreciated that it was never as if he wasn't aware. 

He appreciated that he could be all of these things in her eyes. In his tenure in the military, through the trials and events he had witnessed, all the way to his ascension to Major General, there were only those few who had garnered his respect—the Brigadier General Hughes, such a great friend and an honorable man, the Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong, so duty-bound and honest, the good doctor Marcoh, her, and finally...him.

Everyone missed him, a fact that could not be denied.

Yet Roy was not one to linger, and he understood that the time he had known him had been precious, and that under the surface their mutual respect was special, not only because of the maturity so belying the young man's age but also because of the lessons he had taught him.

Foremost of those lessons was the harsh reality that nothing lasts forever, and the undying need to appreciate everything one has in life.

He appreciated that Fullmetal had taught him this, and appreciated her as a result of knowing it.

And she appreciated him for that fact and for so many more things.

Nowadays, in a complete reversal of their past, he saw her everywhere _but _the office, and it was no secret. The knowledge he had come upon caused him to smile from time to time, and Roy had come to appreciate the ability to smile.

Somwhere, Fullmetal was smiling, too.

As if he didn't know.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, this one was fun. The proof of that and of my returned inspiration was that I wrote this in about eight minutes. The RoyxRiza was necessary, but I loved throwing Ed in. 

Review if you can, and have fun reading. Send me ideas for XX and onwards if possible, because challenges are fun.

**LL**


End file.
